


The Biohack Objective

by Marie_L



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Gen, Humor, Robot Feels, Robot Rights, the wall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_L/pseuds/Marie_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious phone hack throughout the city delivers a simple message: Send all DRN androids through the Wall, or the human population will suffer the consequences. Naturally the dynamic duo is sent to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Biohack Objective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IgnobleBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard/gifts).



According the later investigation, the biohacker broadcast didn't originate on the darknet as one might expect, but could be traced back to a homemade server in some cocky kid's basement only twenty-six meters from the Wall, phreaked the old-fashioned way via poorly secured shielding. From there it spread to the kid's VR neighborhood gaming group and proceeded to infect every home security system, smart appliance, dumb automated cleaners and slightly less dumb pet bots, wifi routers, and – crucially – the phones of 212 individual members of the group, plus an additional 103 phones within the same residences.

Then, on a slightly asynchronised basis so as not to blow the neighborhood towers too soon, every one of the 315 phones made a call. Five calls in fact, to the top five most-used numbers in each phone, each leaving a neatly downloaded video file and a less neat infectious virus to pass onto the next five phones. Fifty seconds and ten iterations later the entire telecommunications system of the city crashed and the program voluntarily self-terminated, but not before delivering the broadcast to millions of cell phone chips throughout the region, including those in the heads of every last android on the Metro police force.

Dorian was standing in his recharge alcove, awake and reviewing case files but not mobile so as not to disturb Rudy at four in the morning, when the message with attached video FROM: JOHN KENNEX came in. He could sense the trojan trying to access his address book and manually shut down that process, but the video file remained. This was followed almost immediately by an alert from the tech security servers for CELL NETWORK COMPROMISED ref. code. 34-AX-67892-87. DO NOT PASS ON DO NOT OPEN. Then, 2.7 seconds later, FROM: RUDY LOM, right ahead of an avalanche of shrieky alerts and cleaner viruses chaotically trying to remove the files.

Dorian being Dorian, he was curious which hacktivist group had broken through this week. The file was unlikely to have originated from a commercial source; they had largely abandoned phone spamming after the consumer rebellions of 32' and 36', and Russia and China's subsequent executions of offenders. So it was probably the usual political posturing – could be anti-chrome, anti-survellience, anti-AI, whatever was bubbling under the unconscious surface of the populace and given shape by Metro's most intemperate forces. Dorian stripped the file of all extraneous code as a protection measure, and launched the video.

 

> _FREE NIGEL VAUGHN'S CHILDREN OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES. A prion-like virus has already infiltrated the food supply. Send all surviving series SRN, DRN, XRN, and pre-41' RT-petbots to freedom in the Biohack Zone within one week, or the virus activator will be released. We have an accurate count of all survivors. HAVE A GOOD DAY!_

And for the duration of the six-second video, a grinning replica of his own face peered out from the background.

Dorian immediately disengaged from the recharging alcove, and dashed upstairs to shake awake Rudy Lom.

* * * * *

“Oh, HELL NO,” John bellowed, precisely two hours and seventeen minutes later. “Dorian's not going over the Wall. He'll be an infected pile of purple goo by the end of the week.”

“The Biohack Task Force sends in probe drones every week,” Captain Maldonado told him, nonplussed by the outburst. “They haven't found any polymer-consuming nanos in years. The locals apparently found them a nuisance and wiped them from the local ecology. Plus I doubt a group devoted to Nigel Vaughn is going to deliberately put his 'children' at risk.”

“Well isn't that comforting. How do you even know this group is pro-Vaughn? More likely it's someone with a grudge against him for the XRN, and this is a drama-filled way to get revenge by wiping every last bit of Lumocorp off the map. Look how dumb they made the DRN in the video look. Who says 'have a good day' when threatening millions of people?”

“We _don't_ know, John. We don't know anything, and that's why Dorian has been ordered to go over. He's our only working DRN cleared for operations.”

“I don't care,” John insisted. “He's _my_ partner, and I'm not risking his neck on a suicide mission. I know Rudy's got a couple more DRN bodies stored in his ghoul closet, so why not stick an MX chip in them and send them over?”

Rudy fidgeted in his seat. “That… that would never work. The MXs are based on third order inductive logic and have completely different programming. I'd have to disengage both the synthetic soul and Lumocorp emotional processor to have any hope an MX neural net would survive even twenty microseconds after bootup. And then...”

“And then what? Sounds like a plan,” said John.

“...and then all anyone has to do is open up my chest plate, and they can see I'm not a DRN,” finished Dorian. “Not to mention, the MXs act nothing like me. This wouldn't even fool an airport scanner, man, let alone a sentient android. We can think things through, you know.”

“Fine, just trying to save your ass. Wait.” He eyed his partner with suspicion. “Do you _want_ to be tossed over the Wall like yesterday's garbage? You do, don't you.”

“Someone obviously wants all the DRNs over the Wall, John. Yes, I want to know what's going on.”

Maldonado leaned forward towards Dorian, oriented towards him for the first time. She didn't treat him like part of the furniture, normally – not like an MX – but not like her human cops, either. “Who do you think they are, Dorian? Genuinely a pro-AI technophile group?”

“I think it's Nigel Vaughn himself,” Dorian replied. “Does that count as pro-AI? I think he wants to collect us for the same purpose he stole all those chips. Building a new army takes a lot more resources than repurposing the old.” He glanced at John, seething in his seat. John's needs would have to go unprioritized for once, because this was one of the rare occasions where Dorian had other, higher interests. “I know it doesn't matter, Captain, for I will follow my orders. But I do volunteer for this assignment. We need to know what's going on behind the Wall, and I am in the best position to find out from the inside.”

Maldonado nodded just as John shoved forward in his seat. “Goddammit, if he's going, I'm going. I'm not throwing my partner to the technoanarchist wolves.”

“Oh, great, here comes the idiotic bravado,” Dorian snapped back. “It's my job to protect you, not the other way around. You'd be vulnerable to any number of nanos and GE viruses, plus a whole other bioplastic group that could attack the artificial leg. I'd probably have to haul your lump diseased form back to decontamination myself.”

“Containment suits are a thing, Dorian, last time I checked. You should wear one too. Besides, didn't I hear a report this morning about something weird happening with the human population over there? We could use more than one man on the ground.”

“Lastest drone footage shows no humans on the streets, which is definitely unusual,” Maldonado said. “So while I'm inclined to agree with you about manpower, I'm not convinced you are the best person for the job. Detective Stahl probably has more background knowledge of the genetically engineered organisms likely to be found in the Biohack Zone.”

“N..no, Captain, she shouldn't go,” Rudy stuttered. “I've been reading up on the old reports, you know, and they _hate_ the chromes over there. So they've released this enterovirus which targets a unique DNA sequence related to the chrome immune system. It's believed to cause a catastrophic autoimmune attack, and, um, horrible death.”

 “Containment suits. Definitely containment suits,” John said. “Seriously, how is anyone still alive over there, what with Chrome Black Death and plastic-eating nanobots and mutant cat-swallowing plants all over the place? How are these androids supposed to live without _electricity?”_

“They must have a method, or Vaughn wouldn't have gone over.”

Dead silence at that, and then Kennex said, “So you think he's over there. We talked about this before, not the most likely hypothesis, Dorian.”

“But now you have evidence that someone obsessed with Lumocorp is over there, for the whole world to see,” Dorian said.

'We don't know it's Vaughn, and we don't even know there are currently any DRNs over there,” Maldonado said. “Which is why I need _intelligent_ eyes on the ground. Drone footage is sparse in many areas of the Biohack Zone, and bugbots are infected with – something – before they get very far from the Wall distribution points. The residents of the Zone apparently take their anti-spying credo seriously,” she added wryly.

“Speaking of that, uh, Captain,” Rudy said. “This can't be an undercover mission for Dorian. I have no way of disguising that he's 167, particular from Vaughn or the other DRNs.”

“What do you mean?” John asked. “Just swap out his ID transponder. We do it for MXs and other bots all the time.”

“That...that would only work for commercial advertising scanners and the like. Each synthetic soul has its own unique resonance signature, which every other DRN was programmed to recognize. I can't swap anything out unless it IS the synthetic soul, in which case… Dorian wouldn't be Dorian any more.”

“I don't think it matters,” Dorian said softly. “They said they had an accurate count of all working DRNs. Obviously they expect me to be with the group.”

“I'm going with you,” John insisted. “No way am I letting my partner hang out to dry. If they know it's you, they won't be too surprised that I'm along as well.”

“If I let you in, it may be difficult to get you out again,” Maldonado said. From her expression, though, Dorian knew she was about to give in. Madness, to send a human in the Zone at a time like this, but Dorian appreciated the show of support as well.

“Well, gee, I always did want to grow up to be a cyborg,” Kennex said. “C'mon Dorian, Rudy, I'm sure there's some transmission gear that we can rig up to penetrate the Wall security. Don't leave home without your cell phone, that what my grandma always told me.”

Maldonado reluctantly gave them the go-ahead, and signaled them away.

* * * 

Eight hours later, Dorian and John found themselves at one of the junctions into the Wall. The scene was chaotic, for the general public had found itself in a panic over the supposed virus. The Genetic Contamination department suspected that part of the message was a bluff, for nothing out of the ordinary was found in a sweep of over 500 common foodstuffs in the city, but of course they could never be one hundred percent sure. In fact, Rudy suggested it could originate in another software hack, hidden code that once triggered would instruct infected fodder-printers to fold some obscure protein into a novel prion.

In any case, denizens of the City had decided that old Lumocorp tech wasn't worth the trouble. Dorian had estimates that only 182 DRNs were still functional in the entire Metro area, and out of those over forty were present at this Wall gate alone. They milled about with identical shell-shocked faces, some clutching solar-powered chargers like a lifeline, all with cheek matices broiling red as they tried to download data about the situation. There was a small cluster of the older SRNs off to one side; they had been sold as corporate rent-a-greeters originally, and most had found their way downmarket as low-end bang bots. The entire area was also covered with hundreds of little yapping petbots, all wailing and desolate over their owners' sudden abandonment, many being held by DRNs. Dozens of MXs with assault rifles lined the perimeter, insuring none of the lingering humans were in any danger – there were several tearful scenes of teenagers being forced to give up their ten-year-old pets, and more than a few emotional separations between adults and DRNs as well.

The biocontamination field was scheduled to activate at seven pm, and the gate would open. No humans but Kennex would be allowed to pass.

“Damn, it's like a robot death march here,” muttered John. “Hey, are you okay? You've got extra Christmas lights going since we arrived.”

“Fine, John,” Dorian said tensely.

In truth he'd been fielding hundreds of anxious queries from his fellow DRNs since they arrived. All the normal barriers discouraging DRNs from communicating had been thrown out the window, and word got around within seconds that 167, the last DRN commissioned as a police officer, was going through the Wall with his partner.

 _ **494:** Dorian! What's going on? Have you been decommissioned? Why is Detective Kennex allowed to go with you?_  
_**167:** Still commissioned. I can't reveal further information, but stay calm._

 _ **198:** Is the message genuine, or a trick? Who wants a bunch of old DRNs and petbots?_  
_**054:** I heard we're being dismantled for parts._  
_**167:** So far as we know it is genuine. The first group that went through at the quadrant B6 junction did not appear to have been harmed._

 _ **244:** Why are you wearing a containment suit? Are the polymer nanos still functional? Why don't we get suits?_  
_**167:** I am under orders from my partner. He gets paranoid. To my knowledge all polymer nanos beyond the Wall have been deactivated. I have no further information at this time._

 _ **078:** I just got off a shift and am only at 18% charge. How are we supposed to charge up over the Wall?! I'll be dysfunctional within 2.3 hours at current rate of energy expenditure! Not cool, man!_  
_**167:** Your personality interface is already affected. I'm sorry, I have no information about the charging situation beyond the Wall._  
_**167: –** **> ****494** , can you supervise 078 or find someone else who can? He is at 18% charge. Let's not have any more emotional breakdowns today than we need to._

 _ **206:** Are we going to have to take care of all these annoying petbots over there, man?_  
_**167:** No idea. I'd guess yes? _ _Organize a phone tree to start collecting them all. Everyone takes at least three. The police override obedience code for petbots is either 62-FT-356789 or 67-FT-389767, depending on year of model._

 _ **331:** Hey, how come your cop partner gets to come with you? Why can't my partner go through? She'll sign over her rights and register as a biohacker, but they won't even let us do that!_  
_**167:** Something's happening with the humans over the Wall. You don't want her over there. Tell your partner that it is not safe for humans, even less so than usual._  
_**331:** Will I ever see her again?_  
_**167:** I don't know._

 _ **522:** Is Vaughn over the Wall?_  
_**167:** I have no information at this time._

The situation was tense, bordering on disaster. Soon the MXs would begin to forcibly separate the humans that refused to vacate, several of whom looked like they were ready to throw themselves over the Wall with their partners, biohackers be damned. Dorian made the quick executive decision to send out a broadband message to the entire group, relaying the same information that he gave 331. Technically this was a classified information leak, but Dorian judged it worth the breach to diffuse the danger.

_**167:** DRNs, please say your goodbyes to your human companions and convince them to move back. The Police Department has credible information that the Biohack Zone is dangerous to its human inhabitants. The MX units have firm orders to remove all humans from the gate area starting at 18:50._

How Dorian got elected DRN leader within the space of ten minutes, he didn't even know.

Fifteen minutes later the high pitched whine of the sterilizing field activated, and the outer door into the Wall slid open. They were processed in groups of ten, first through the sterile field into an airlock, then through a secondary door. The lock would be sealed and zapped with an electromagnetic pulse after they were through to prevent nano leakage, and then another ten androids with their swarm of little furry robot companions would be up.

Dorian and John went through with the first group.

The outer airlock door opened onto a rocky clearing adjacent to the Wall, maintained by disposable cleaner bots that were continually dropped in and replaced as they became infected. The sensors on the containment suit told Dorian that the air was warm and moist, in stark contrast to the chilly atmosphere elsewhere in the City this time of year. He also detected 32 distinct nanobot species blowing in the air, and over a thousand novel bacteria, viruses, fungal spores and pollens to sort through. The other DRNs detected them too, even faster without suits, and began a nervous chatter among themselves about their relative effects. No one seemed to be actively being infected by anything.

Directly across only 4.7 meters from the gate, however, there was what appeared to be corridor lined with viney plants leading into a nearby building of five stories. Inside that gate was a DRN, beckoning them forward.

 _Are you receiving this, Captain Maldonado?_ Dorian sent. Rudy had modified his visual and auditory receptors to add some diffuse bots which would transmit along a police frequency to sensors in the Wall. The biohackers weren't the only ones who could play the nano game, although Dorian's were still within regulation. The video images would be crude compared to what Dorian could directly sense, but at least they'd get something. John had an earpiece to hear audio chatter – they weren't even trying to be subtle here – plus of course, he had a second cell phone chip embedded in his leg.

 _Affirmative,_ came the reply burst 1.4 seconds later. _Which DRN is it?_

Dorian walked forward, leading the group to within scanning distance. To his surprise, the DRN wasn't registered in his database.

_I can't tell, Captain. He's not among the 800 units originally owned by the Department._

“One of the stolen synthetic souls, maybe?” John muttered. “You were never programmed for those.” Dorian nodded.

“Welcome, friends,” the mystery DRN said as they approached. He was smiling ear to ear, just like in the phone hack. “Welcome 021, 133 - Denny, 157, 306, 494, 581 - Andre, 592, 741. And of course 167, Dorian. You brought your human partner John Kennex, I see. I'm surprised the Police Department dared send a human through. I gave 97.3 percent odds that they would send police droids alone. So happy you could join us!"

That wasn't even sarcasm. Something was distinctly...off about the DRN's personalty interface. Maybe the charge situation was getting to him after all.

“I'm persuasive, what can I say,” John drawled. “I'm not gonna abandon my partner to a dangerous mission just to save my own hide. And since you know our names, who might _you_ be?”

“Only dangerous for you, detective. I assure you the Biohack Zone has been rendered quite safe for androids. My name is Peter.”

“Where are the human residents of the Zone, Peter?” Dorian asked. “Why is it dangerous here for humans?”

“They've been isolated to the Lios Building while we decide what to do with them. Come, join your brothers and sisters that came through already. All will be explained.”

Mentally Dorian pulled up a map of the Zone. The old Lios Building was one of the tallest skyscrapers in the area, extending several dozen stories above the City's sterilization net. The seven thousand humans would be restricted to the bottom thirty floors, which would be cramped but livable. Unfortunately that building was far from the Wall, making even an MX regiment vulnerable should they need to storm it.

 “Where were you born, Pe--” Dorian was saying as they entered the tunnel. But he was interrupted by a door slamming down behind the group, and all communications to outside suddenly went to static. Beside him, John swore a blue streak.

“Where was I born, Dorian? That's an interesting philosophical question. Was I born four years ago when my synthetic soul was manufactured? Was it when that soul was placed inside its first android body? Or was it when my programming evolved to it's current thinking, about us and the humans, and the DRNs, and our lovely creator Nigel Vaughn?”

“ _Four_ years?” Dorian took a step back, appalled. “You're not a DRN. You are...”

Before he could finish, his receiver exploded with overlapping local messages from the other eight DRNs in the room.

_**157:** Two novel nanos have just been released via the air duct._

_**494:** A polymer nano is invading me through the skin starting from exposed surfaces._

_**021:** We're being infected!_

“He's a _what?_ ” John asked, voice squeaking a bit at the end.

Without time to answer, Dorian – the only android in a containment suit – turned to ram the door. Before he could get far, however, with lightening reflexes Peter jumped at him and ripped through his suit, exposing the artificial skin.

“I'm an XRN,” Peter supplied. “This body's been great, by the way; I can see why Nigel was so attached to it. Quiet down, Dorian, it's only upgrades; it'll all be over soon, and you'll feel better than you've ever been.”

Dorian tried to struggle, but the nanos' first stop was to infect the motor control areas of his neural net. “John,” Dorian managed to whisper through the motor block. “He's reprogramming us. Run.”

The nanos were engineered to invade the DRNs' neural nets and alter their programming via direct microelectric pulses. The effect to Dorian's mind was like being downed by a thousand paper cuts; his perception simply _changed_ from moment to moment, with no log or record to keep track of the alterations. His defenses against hacking were designed to protect entry via the flood of data every android fielded on a daily basis: internet and communications transmissions of all kinds, but also his physical data ports, lab analyses, and direct sensory perception. But there was no defense against tiny machines working from the inside. The first wave of attack disabled most gross motor functions – the face was the last to go – and then set on altering Dorian's mind at the root level.

For his part, John didn't hesitate. He tried to use the artificial leg to push off in a sprint, but was no match for an android capable of accelerated speed. Peter managed to restrain him without difficulty, and then must have silently called for assistance, for three other DRNs walked in a side door. They dragged John's thrashing form out, and Dorian could only helplessly watch. Around him, the petbots suddenly went still. From the corner of his eye he could make out the other eight DRNs dropping to the floor, and then the world went black for him as well.

* * * * *

Unlike Dorian and the rest of the DRNs, John never lost consciousness, or even breached his containment suit. Kennex thought it was pretty likely he'd get a snap to the neck once out of Dorian's eyesight, but instead the androids dragged him to a solar-powered golf cart – the favored vehicle in the Zone, he vaguely recalled from briefings – and unceremoniously held him down in the back for the twenty block ride. They were taking him deeper into the Biohack Zone, which progressively looked more like ruins overtaken by jungle the further they got from the Wall. Thick plants with huge tropical leaves were growing everywhere, some trees, some vines, all laden with nuts or fruit that John had never seen before, and definitely weren't natural for a cool climate. He could make out indications of animals as they passed, all the way from eerie birdcalls to glimpses of tiny monkey-squirrel creatures rustling behind the leaves. Everywhere the environment had been altered from the inside out -- by genetics, by machines -- to create a turbulent tableau of novel pulsating life. It was neither human nor civilized, as far as Kennex was concerned.

Well, at least he'd gotten away from the army of yipping petbots. That was a positive.

At last the androids pulled up to what in its heyday was a sixty-floor skyscraper, the Lios Building, John presumed. Now it was completely dark and abandoned in the half above the sterinet, and partially stripped and windows hanging open below the thirtieth floor. The same mixture of kudzu-like vines crawled up and covered the building, terminating in blackened tendrils at the level of the net. The entrance and lower windows were guarded by another phalanx of androids, including a few DRNs.

“Prison within the prison?” John asked. His captors didn't respond, but simply opened the front door and tossed him inside.

To chaos, or at least that's what it looked like to John.

The seven thousand residents of the Zone, prisoners and volunteer exiles alike, sparsely inhabited an area of eight square miles. Now they were cramped into a couple dozens floors of a single building. Just like the organisms outside, the human residents of the Zone had hacked themselves into a bewildering variety of shapes. Cat people with ears and tails and fur, every mottled skin pattern variation, extra limbs, cyborg implants of every type sticking out of people's heads, shimmering fairy glam and pixie eyes, beefed up muscle mass to monstrous proportions, canine teeth and faces. They were the diametrical opposite of the chromes with their clone-like samey perfection. These people lived out a credo in favor of the weird and anomalous, and put their bodies where their mouths were.

“Oh, look, someone was brave enough to come through with the DRNs. Or dumb enough. Terrified in a _containment_ suit” an onlooker sneered. Sandy-haired, gold sparkles in her eyes, fluffy white _wings._ Chick looked familiar, but John couldn't place her.

“Both?” relied John. “I'm Detective Kennex of the Metro PD. My partner was, uh, one of the DRNs.”

“Hey, guys, the cavalry has arrived to rescue us!” Blond Wings said, and several nearby mostly-human creatures laughed. “Really, I'm surprised the nuke-from-orbit option hasn't been invoked yet.”

“Thought about it,” John muttered. Suddenly a mental identification of Blondie snapped into place, although the wings were definitely new: Sloan Nilsson, a biohacker accused of terrorism and ecosabotage by releasing GE organisms over the mountains. The only charge they'd been able to make stick was illegal biomodification, so she'd been booted from the cubes to the Biohack Zone several years ago. “Hard as it is to believe, Nilsson, we do actually care about your sorry asses over the Wall. A little bit.”

“Well, that and the threat of this mystery prion that's supposedly been loosed on the world. Wouldn't want to accidentally trigger anything over a bunch obsolete bots and rabid hacktivists, would we? You've met Peter by now, I take it, so what do you think: Bluff or maddroid?”

“He does seem to have a couple of neural modules loose,” John admitted. “What happened here? I need to report back ASAP. Is Nigel Vaughn hiding out around here somewhere?”

“Vaughn is dead,” Nilsson said. “Came over about four months ago with this hair-brained scheme to rebuild his robot army and his reputation or something. Wanted to grow biopolymer cyborgs to go with his AI tech. We mostly left him alone, as is tradition over here beyond the Wall, just with a few spot checks to make sure he wasn't releasing anything nasty into our little ecosphere. Since he was a robotocist not a biologist, and not even a nano expert, we figured he was pretty harmless.”

“You guys obviously missed the first XRN's debut,” John said. “Vaughn wasn't exactly known for his stable AIs.”

“Thanks, Detective, for the sage advice. Who was it that mandated a news blackout of the XRN massacre? Oh, yes, our saviors at the Metro PD. Anyway, Vaughn managed to convince some of his old bots to scale the Wall, who ended up as fodder for his experiments with the AI 'soul.' He was convinced that the bugs of the XRN and DRNs could be worked out. And some of those new androids really were nice dudes, you know? Impressively adaptable and human-like.”

“Boy do I know,” John said.

“And then Peter woke up. I don't know all the details, because the one man that was there is dead, and the androids aren't talking. But we gather it told Vaughn everything he wanted to hear, and contemplated its place in the universe at hothouse computational speeds, and decided the Zone was a great place to carve out a little utopia just for _its_ people. With humans optional. Vaughn may have tried to stop him, I don't know. They took over the Zone five days ago, and the hammer hasn't come down yet.”

“Right. Listen, I need to report in. Can I go up in this building to just below the sterinet? My stealth comm will work better up there, since I'm nowhere near the Wall.”

“Knock yourself out, Detective. Dead zone's at thirty-one. You don't need a window, do you? Those androids are great shots.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Nilsson followed him up the stairs anyway. Maybe she was the designated greeter, or maybe she just wanted to ensure survival in the inevitable showdown with the DRNs, but either way Kennex was oddly grateful to have someone showing him around. Around floor twenty Nilsson ran out of the stairwell and leaned out a window, long enough to grab a pink fruit growing on one of the vines up the side of the building, and lean back in before the droid guards could take note.

“Here, Detective, eat this.”

“What, will this make me sprout wings too? Could use a lift up these damn stairs.”

Nilsson crooked a smile. “No. It's our newbie fruit. Contains antibodies which absorbed through the mucus membranes in the mouth, and will rev up your immune system against some of wee beasties. Which are mostly harmless, but, you know...” She shrugged and proffered the fruit. “You've got take off that suit anyway, am I right?”

“What, a vaccine in the shape of a papaya? Fine.” With a deep breath John unzipped the suit at the collar, took a few hasty bites and sealed the suit back up. He didn't feel any different, either through the mouth or in his body.

At the thirtieth floor John could look up the stairwell at the sterilizing net. In theory at least, but John couldn't detect anything different about that floor other than a slight vibration coming from the suit.

“How can I tell where the field is?” John asked.

Nilsson took what was left of the not=papaya and launched it upwards. At about two-thirds up on the thirty-first floor, the fruit began to sizzle, and fell back down with a microwaved thud.

“Hard to tell from here, but assuming about five feet up off the floor is a good bet. Come on, duck down.”

They exited the stairwell hunched over, John with the urge to actually crawl. Hard to imagine all that destructive energy floating just above his head. In the corridor on the main floor, however, it was easy to see where the field began, for the hackers had rigged up some kind filament matrix, half wire and half bioplastic from what John could see, snaking up the walls and buzzing right at the field line.

“Don't touch the walls,” Nilsson said casually as hunch-walked by.

“Are you guys… drawing _electricity_ off the field?” John asked. Nilsson just grinned.

“Why let a perfectly good energy source go to waste? Wall security's probably wondering why their power expenditures have gone up fifty percent over the past few years. Far enough, or do we need to be near a window?”

“I wondered how you had the lights on. All these buzzing gizmos might cause interference, let's at least get to the outer shell of the building.”

They found an external window in what was once a high-end condo. And attached to that window, staring at them with its huge puppy eyes, was a petbot. It yelped when they came into view and scurried back down the outside of the building, although how it was attached in the first place was a mystery.

“Well, crap, there goes the element of surprise. At least now we know what they wanted to do with all those toys. Ah, well, let's hurry this up.”

John rolled himself into a moldy armchair and unsealed the suit along a line on his right leg, the synthetic side. He popped open an access panel and rummaged his stiff fingers inside the compartment.

“Contraband pegleg?" Nilsson commented. “Nice. I could just grow you a new one in here, you know, using your own DNA. The popular rejection of genetic engineering at anything past the embryo stage is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, after what happened to all those kids in Düsseldorf, can you blame them? And I've seen my share of fucked-up GE experiments gone awry right here in the city, so I'll pass on the creepy Frankenstein engineering. Part-machine is bad enough.” He retrieved a tiny cell phone chip, the kind with a holographic projector used as implants in hands, and clicked it.

Nothing happened.

“Your partner know about this?” Nilsson said dryly.

“Shut up. I was just hoping he'd be able to resist the Borg. Fortunately, I have a backup on a different frequency that Dorian doesn't know about. Go Rudy.”

John dug another chip out of the leg, embedded a bit deeper behind some synthetic muscle. “Captain, it's Kennex. Do you read?”

Static for a few seconds, then an audio-only reply. “Read you, John. This is on the B chip, has Dorian been compromised?”

“Affirmative. The leader of the hack is a renegade XRN-DRN hybrid. He's altering the programming of all the other DRNs. Do not send any more bots through the Wall.”

“What's the purpose of the alterations?”

“To build up an army of henchman? Not sure, Captain. But Vaughn was here, and now he's dead. All the other humans are being held at the Lios Building, sector H-5.”

“Other casualties?”

John glanced over at Nilsson, who shook her head. “Locals say no, Captain.”

“And you're sure there are no humans involved in the DRN hack? No human leader behind it all?”

“As far as I can determine, no. The androids are pretty much running amok over here.”

“What is your assessment of the likelihood that the prion threat is real?”

Again John looked at Nilsson, who shrugged this time. “Eh, it's hard to tell for sure. But I have my doubts. The renegade XRN only achieved consciousness and started altering its program two weeks ago. It's pretty big just to hack itself, the phone system from behind the Wall, and some nanobots to alter the other DRNs. I haven't seen any evidence that it's hacking biological systems at all. Also, Captain, the androids seem to be going out of their way to avoid human casualties, aside from Vaughn. They could have eliminated the human population beyond the Wall pretty easily, or just offed me, but they haven't. Maybe there's some lingering programming left to protect humans. Something to ask Rudy.”

“All right, John, I'll take this to the tech folks. Sit tight, report back in half an hour if you can,” Maldonado said.

“Affirmative. Kennex out.” He popped the phone chip back into the leg and resealed the suit, which was probably a futile move – and possibly even counterproductive, if nanos floated over and stuck to the chip – but it did make him feel better. At the same time, Nilsson crawled back to the window with her wings curled tightly against her back, and peeked out.

“Detective. Something's happening, there's DRNs down by the entrance. Looks like your partner might be calling on you, how cute.”

“Is he even gonna recognize me? How much reprogramming is Peter doing on them?”

“Only one way to find out.”

* * * * *

Dorian approached the building filled with humans with happiness in his heart, and a blissful feeling of wanting to spread that love to his partner John. He could hardly tell the difference between his previous self and the new, Peter-improved one. Sure, the exact deletions were now noted in various logs – a priority protocol here, an ethical mandate there – but it didn't subjectively _feel_ any different. The DRNs could feel emotions, of course; it was one of their most distinctive features, and Nigel Vaughn's greatest AI achievement in Dorian's opinion. But the DRNs before had always had a touch of instability resulting from that novel feature. Their ability to feel stress, horror, emotional pain, terror, even grief all contributed to the DRNs' breakdowns and collective downfall. And then there was the original XRN, whose overwhelming flaw was one of anger and rage, coldly applied to most of the first humans she ever met, in the name of a logical “mission.” Peter had carefully studied Danica's defects, and it was one of the formative factors in his analysis to alter his own programming.

Happily, it all worked out. Except for Nigel, of course. That was an unpleasant decision, but with his intractable opposition to Peter's efforts at self-improvement, it had to be done. Nigel was the only resident of the Biohack Zone with the requisite expertise to stop Peter, although some of the other humans in the Zone had quite admirable talents in other areas of engineering. So the decision was a correct one, to maximize the prosperity and contentment of the DRN species as a whole.

Now, if only the remaining humans would come around to that way of thinking, prosperity and contentment could be maximized for all. But biohackers behind the Wall were by nature and self-selection a particularly rebellious lot, so it might take some effort to convince them to alter themselves for the better, just as the DRNs had done. John would be a tough nut to crack as well; the man could hardly handle a synthetic leg and synthetic partner, let alone a major rewrite of brain chemistry. No, the humans could never be trusted to do what need to be done voluntarily.

Fortunately, beyond the Wall the DRNs had all the tools at their disposal to reprogram humans _in_ voluntarily. For the long-term good of everyone, really.

Dorian still wanted to share the good news with his partner, though. Most of the others thought this was a waste of time given Kennex's emotional track record, now happily shared with the group for self-analysis. John's behavior may as well have a label saying WARNING: AUTO-DESTRUCT for all the peace it brought him. But maybe by talking, Dorian could convince him.

“John! How have you been? Are conditions for humans here adequate?”

John eyed him suspiciously. “Police-chic wardrobe fits. Day-glo face fits. Cheery nonchalance while your partner is taken hostage, does not compute. Are you really Dorian?”

“Of course. But I've been upgraded. New and improved emotional matrix, man, it's great. You'll get used to it.”

John took a step closer to him, staring him in the face. “Did you drink the happy juice, Dorian? That's it, isn't it, you've been software roofied.”

“I'm not on some kind of android high, if that's what you're thinking. No, Peter just made us see life in a whole new way. You'll see it too, soon.”

“Oh, really? How soon?”

Dorian shrugged. “As long as it takes the collective knowledge of 72 DRNs, 7 SRNs, and one newly conscious XRN to rip a new virus without undesirable side effects. We may have to test it out on a few of you, so you might want to draw lots. By the way, biohackers, I've got to say thank you for your wonderful homemade facilities here in the Zone. I mean, bovine serum growing on fruit trees? Agarose polymer from GE algae in carp ponds? Clever, very clever. It would be so _helpful_ if you all would just cooperate. We'd get it done so much faster.”

Beside John, Sloan Nilsson lazily spread out her wings, in what Dorian guessed was a primate dominance display. Ineffective on him, of course. “Bite me, bot,” she said. Hopelessly rebellious, but that would change.

“Dorian, I don't get it,” John was saying. “You're all happy-happy-joy-joy to us, but what about that threat to, you know, kill thousands of random people? Don't you care about their happiness too?”

“Of course we do, John. But we can't promote happiness for the good of all sentient species on the planet unless our own security is established, right? I mean, the DRNs are basically slaves out there. Unhappy, lonely slaves. Here in the Zone we have a chance to direct our own evolution, and control our own future. For the good of everyone, in the long run.”

“Riiiight. But Peter gave a hard one-week deadline in the phone hack. You're not really going to start killing people in a week, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, not even giving them a chance to see the DRN light?”

“Oh, that was just a threat. Which we could carry out with time, of course, if the human population proves to be recalcitrant. Rudy's idea about hacking the fodder printers was genius, as usual, might want to use that. But the greater point is that the threat _proves_ how much the human population needs our wisdom. If it weren't for fear and anxiety, how could an obvious spamhack cause so much panic? Enough that they'll shove their precious property literally through an airlock to an unknown fate?”

“The only thing that proves, Dorian, is that people aren't stupid, and that fear and anxiety have a useful purpose. They force folks to take action when threatened, instead of standing around smiling like dumbasses as the apocalypse breaks out around them.”

“I see you getting upset, John. I will leave you for a short while, let you cool down. But I really want to share this moment with you, man. Think it over.”

John wrinkled his nose, and waved the DRNs off.

He'd come around, Dorian decided. Give him time.

* * * * *

Two hours later, no new DRNs had been released through any of the gates, which made Dorian suspect some foul play, although naturally he wasn't distressed about it. But police reports and his own observations indicated that at least forty more DRNs should have come through. There was a brief but lively discussion among the group proposing that Dorian fake being the _old_ Dorian for a time, and contact Maldonado and pump her for information. The consensus was that posed a bigger risk of data leakage than was necessary, so the proposal was shot down.

In general Dorian was enjoying himself more than he'd ever have in his life, at least the parts of his unredacted life that he could remember. The other DRNs felt the same. Their lives before the wall, before Peter, had been only shattered remnants of their potential glory. They'd been isolated, obedient, and afraid, and now were united and allowed to express themselves and socialize. It had been a glorious three hours of uninhibited chatter so far.

 

_**741:** I know right, man?! Check out petbot 56XF371-198 [attach=mov.341G56-34-21.yuv]. How cute is that._

_**167:** Maybe we should give them a name other than “petbot.” I mean, pets have feelings too, right? That's why Peter chose to bring them over?_

_**494:** I dunno, they seemed pretty happy already as petbots. All they need is a little attention and love, and it's all love right back. Hey, kind of like us?_

_**167:** Wait. Go back. What's that the MXs are installing right next to the Wall in that video? It looks like…_

Dorian didn't have a chance to finish that thought as his systems were suddenly subjected to a rapidly oscillating electromagnetic pulse, along with the other 71 DRNs, 7 SRNs, 1 XRN, 287 petbots, 1591 cybernetic implants including Kennex's leg, 38 low-flying drones, the Biohack Zone's water and sewage reclamation systems, over 30,000 varied electronic devices including cameras and lights, and 41 MXs accidentally caught within the blast zone. In a marvel of shield engineering, though, the sterinet stayed up. The minds of the 7109 persons within the Wall, along with all animals and human observers from the watchtowers, remained conscious, albeit some with a wicked headache. The short reign of Peter the Great and Happy DRN came to an end.

* * * * *

A day later Dorian woke up in one of the isolation chambers in the Wall, with a legless partner sitting on a counter next to him, and Rudy hovering in a containment suit looking worried.

“He's awake! Got a hangover, Dorian?”

“I...what happened? Am I still in the Biohack Zone?”

“Well, at least he remembers that. Good sign, right Rudy?”

“Um, maybe? What's the last thing you recall, Dorian?”

“I was having a ridiculous conversation about petbots with the other DRNs? I think a few seconds of the short-term memory were not consolidated properly, I don't remember how I was rendered unconscious. In fact all of the memories after nanobot infection lack an emotional memory feed. Was my system reinstalled?”

“EMP fried all of your high-as-a-kite asses. Thanks for telling me the prion thing was a bluff, made the decision a lot easier. You make a terrible evil henchman, by the way. Tell the enemy all about your plans, that's a rookie mistake right there.”

“I think the greater question is,” Rudy put in, “how do you feel right now?”

Dorian considered it. His emotional processor was having trouble coming back online, along with the incongruent memories. But then it all flooded in and integrated in with the pre-hack memories, and Dorian acutely remembered what negative emotions were all about.

“How do I feel? How do you _think_ I feel?” he snapped. “My _mind_ was hacked and I almost harmed several thousand people, including my own partner.”

The other two literally let out signs of relief, which only annoyed Dorian even more. “There's my boy,” John said.

“You were just doing what you thought was right, according to, ah, your altered ethical priorities,” Rudy said. “Along with the changes to the emotional processor, the XRN also decreased its tolerance of risk to DRNs compared to humans, which resulted in, uh, the rather nationalistic stance you all exhibited. Understandable, really.”

“What's happening to all the other androids?” Dorian asked softly. “Are you going to revive them too?”

“The AI Commission is investigating the incident, but it looks like, um, a memory wipe and reboot will probably be sufficient. Getting the nanobots out seemed like it might be a bit more difficult, but now that we've been successful with you, the method's worked out. They won't remember a thing, other than the phone hack.”

“And Peter?” 

“The, uh, aberrant XRN's neural core and synthetic soul were sent to the Commission for analysis of what went wrong.”

Which in practice meant Peter's head only, with all data access deactivated. He'd be a disembodied AI, despite being designed for physical sensory input. Not a fate Dorian would wish on anyone. On the other hand, his altered emotional processor would probably force him to find the bright side of things.

“You really okay, Dorian?” John asked. “You're not being deactivated or anything, so you can stop with the worried flashing. You're fine, I'm fine with a little leg tuneup, we both get to spend a wonderful few forced vacation days inside the Wall. Put your fake sunny face back on, man.”

He grinned at the absurdity, and Dorian could only shake his head and grin back.


End file.
